A Fantasy Come True
by sweetseverus
Summary: No longer a one shot!Hermione is captured by Voldemort and given to Snape as a reward to do with her as he pleases. Will this really be a horror to Hermione? Or a fantasy come true? Lemons and simulated rape. Don't like it don't read it. R&R please!
1. Chapter 1

**_SS-_**_ Hi guys! Just thought up a one shot i thought would be fun for a little sexy severus time =) This does contain simulated rape (Sex that appears to be rape but is not) You have been warned, this is a very smutty, steamy story! DISCLAIMER: I do not own ANYTHING. _

Cold.

Something was cold and damp. Hermione's mind struggled to regain consciousness, fighting, clawing; dragging it's way past the fog to the surface.

_C'mon, c'mon… _She pled, her thoughts lazy, heavy with the weight of sleep. Her eyelids felt as though invisible weights held them shut, held them tight and heavy, stuck against the high curve of her cheeks. Cold. Why was it so cold? She felt chills run up and down her body, tiny goose bumps lining her sun kissed skin. She tried in vain to open her eyes but they felt weak, as if the invisible weight was just too strong for her to pry them open.

"Ah… I believe Miss Granger is finally coming to," said a cold, slithering voice. Hermione's mind struggled to recognize the speaker but the fog surrounding her brain was simply too thick. She tried to open her mouth to speak but it was at that moment she realized something was very, very wrong. There was something in her mouth. A gag? A cloth? She couldn't tell. Finally, with a little motivational panic, her mind snapped awake, her eyes attempting to shoot open but she suddenly realized that the invisible weight on her eyes wasn't so invisible after all. She was blind folded. She heard murmurs all around her, a little laughter but mostly the low rustling of long cloaks and hushed whispers of many men.

_Where am I?_ Hermione thought, struggling to remember anything at all. The last she was aware she was with Harry and Ron, searching for Horcruxes… She tried to move, to huddle away from the cold until she realized her arms were bound high above her. She was lying on the ground, she figured, but her arms felt painfully stretched and her wrists, her wrists stung fiercely. Finally gaining a little more ability over motor function, she attempted to move her arms and heard the distinct rattling of chains.

_Chains? Chains? Oh God, what happened to me?_

With a horrified gasp, Hermione's brain fitted the last piece of the puzzle. She was cold because she had no clothes on. She was laying on a cold, damp stone floor, a gag in her mouth, a blindfold on and arms bound in chains above her head, leaving the rest of her exposed. Hermione suddenly thrashed, panic stricken, fear and embarrassment suddenly giving her mind a flourish of energy. A silent scream escaped her lips and wet tears slid down her blushing cheeks.

"Oh, tut tut now, my dear girl," the voice said again. "I hear you're a star pupil at Hogwarts, is this true?"

Hermione lay dead still, painfully aware of her exposed body, exposed breasts and hardened nipples. She pulled her legs in tight, covering as much as she possibly could.

_That voice… that voice…Who is that?_

Hermione couldn't speak and so resorted to silence, quietly and meekly struggling against her bonds. She knew there was no use; no doubt they had confiscated her wand. Hermione shivered uncontrollably on the damp tiles, more silent tears of frustration soaking the bond over her eyes. She whimpered quietly, all too painfully aware of the bruising on her wrists.

"Now Miss Granger, I've also heard you're being a very, very bad girl. Helping a one Harry Potter, are we?" The voice hissed and she suddenly knew who it was. Her heart dropped painfully into her stomach. Voldemort. Voldemort had her hostage somewhere and the rustling noises… Dear Lord! There must be Death Eaters around to watch the show. There was laughter surrounding her, a mixture of hisses and jeers as she whimpered, trying to pull into herself. Her face burnt fiercely with resentment and humiliation. What happened? Where was she? How did she even get there?

"Well Miss Granger, you'll find I'm not unlike Dumbledore. I am also fair, am I right?" The cackling grew around the room until it resonated like a bell ringing infinitely in a tower. "Now, if you, Miss Granger had disobeyed the rules of the school, you would be punished, yes?" She could only whimper her reply, only beginning to think of the horrors she was in store for.

"And if you are good, you get a reward, yes?" More laughter.

_Wake up, wake up! Oh God, please wake up!_ She thought desperately, pulling on the chains until she felt a small trickle of blood slide down her wrist.

"Well, then. I hope you would agree that you have been breaking a lot of my rules. But my faithful servants, ah yes, my loyal ones, they have done good by me and deserve a reward!" The voice hissed and was met by an assortment of applause and eager noises. Hermione's stomach churned, it churned so violently she worried she may just choke on her own vomit. _Would probably be better than what's about to come…_ she thought, panicked.

"Usually, Miss Granger…" the voice began, now right next to her ear, close enough that his breath sent pieces of her hair floating around her face, "Usually I would let them all have you, usually I would let each and every one of them have there turn with you, ravage you until you broke." More tears saturated her blindfold, broken, muffled sobs escaping her gag. "But, you are a very special girl, are you not? And I have a very special servant who deserves this more than the rest…" Hermione lay, naked, afraid and now horribly anxious. Who would it be? Who was going to have their way with her? She struggled one last time with all her might, more blood trickled down from her wrists but she didn't care. She thrashed around, not caring what anyone saw of her anymore, her life was more important than her dignity.

"Severus!" Voldemort called, and Hermione froze. Her thrashing ceased for the moment. A new muffled whimper left her. She was still, so very still, she could hear, feel her heartbeat in her throat, in her stomach, everywhere. Snape? Professor Snape? She tried to swallow but couldn't.

"My Lord?" A cool, collected and sultry voice asked.

"Severus, I believe this one belongs to you," Voldemort sang, his voice full of intended malice.

"Thank you, My Lord…" Snape began with a little hesitation. "You are most gracious." Hermione felt rather than saw him bow, the hem of his robes snaking over the tip of her exposed torso.

Hermione shivered relentlessly, upset by the knowledge that it wasn't only due to the cold. _Get a grip!_ She reprimanded herself but suddenly flashes of past memories and fantasies came flooding back to her. Countless nights awake in her four-poster bed, hand placed gently between her thighs, stroking… harder, _harder_. _"Professor! _She screamed silently her back arched. Images of Severus Snape above her, pinning her shoulders, face twisted in concentrated pleasure, length buried deep inside her….

With a gasp her mind was brought back to the present. Back to where she was, and who she was with. Her flesh was now warm and pick, she was sure.

"Go on Severus, enjoy your treat," Voldemort hissed a little impatiently at Snape's hesitation. Hermione's heart hammered in her chest, every beat thudding in her ears. She didn't dare move as she felt the hem of her Professor's robes gently scrape the skin a long her legs. She whimpered quietly, her cheeks a furious red as she tried to hide her arousal from the Death Eaters. Holding her breath in anticipation, Hermione's head pounded as he neared her, one knee down beside her, two…

Snape's hair dragged down across her beasts as he bent over her, his hands coming to rest above her head on the cold, damp floor. She felt his hands move to the back of her hair and shivers broke out along her moonlit skin.

"Why the hesitation, Severus?" Voldemort demanded, seemingly irritated by his follower's patience.

"She is indeed special, My Lord." Hermione shivered as his breath tickled her sensitive neck. "I would like to savor this, if I may?" He said silkily, but being so close to him, Hermione could hear the lie in his voice.

"Of course, Severus. As you wish, it is… after all, _your_ reward." Hermione swore she heard, the faintest, sigh of relief. "However," Voldemort continued, "do try to hurry it up Severus, the others deserve some…_entertainment_ as well."

At that her Professor suddenly grabbed the back of her hair to which she squealed, wave upon wave of desire coursing through her. He leaned his head in close to her neck where he breathed gently against her throat.

"Forgive me, Miss Granger," he whispered to her, his breath tickling her ear lobe. Her body twitched, more fantasies popping into her mind, making her brain foggy with lust. His nimble fingers undid her blind fold and she stared, straight into coal black eyes. She knew her own had darkened and understood the look of bewilderment on her Professor's face. Her want was exposing her. She heard laughing around her as the Death Eaters supposed he was making her watch to humiliate and terrorize her further. She couldn't tear her eyes away from his, still unable to speak from the gag. He leaned in close to her, grabbing each one of her legs and spreading them roughly. Wet. She was so wet, and couldn't control it. _How embarrassing_, she cringed. She was spread wide for him, her vulva flexing in anticipation, the cool dungeon air touching her clit making it sensitive. Suddenly, without warning, he thrust his finger into her roughly. Hermione moaned, the sound muffled by her gag. The Death Eaters' view was blocked by her curled leg and so believed Snape to be much more aggressive then was true. In reality he was attempting to prepare her, but suddenly realized, with again more puzzlement, that she was already very, _very_ wet. Hermione's eyes connected with his once again and suddenly she felt a niggling sensation in her mind.

_Oh no… Oh no no, _she thought. She knew what he would see when he entered her mind. And sure enough, her Professor was bombarded with images of her fantasies, of her pleasures and longing. She felt him retreat quickly but their eyes stayed locked in a kind of trance. His fingers were rammed in her once again and this time she couldn't hold back her scream of pleasure. Having her legs spread so wide for him, laying on the ground at his mercy… for him to do with her as he will. It was just too much.

_Miss Granger! _She heard in her mind. _For heavens sake! You need to be a little more convincing!_ His voice was harsh but she understood, he was in a terrible position. And so she began to thrash around on the floor, screaming viciously as if getting away from her Professor was the only thing in her panic stricken mind. Laughter. That's all she heard around her as Snape crawled on top of her, pinning her to the ground, attempting to keep her legs apart.

_Yes, yes. Good Miss Granger._ Was all he said but she heard his relief in the thought. He grunted as she aimed a good kick to his stomach, to which he quickly recovered, letting his weight pin her against the cold floor. Hermione moaned once again as his weight touched her most intimate parts. But she could tell he was not erect. His smell was intoxicating, a mix of herbs and wood. A very clean, wilderness smell. And suddenly she had an idea. She opened the connection between their minds further and filled it once more with images of her touching herself, screaming his name, her pleasure written all over her face. She felt him grow hard between her legs which only made the images in her mind stronger, more vibrant, more clear.

"_Professor, please!" _She gasped in her memory, her fingers reaching the deepest part of her sex.

Snape grunted before her, stifling a moan as he became even harder, throbbing against her core. She watched as his face, so close to hers, twisted into one of pain, as if he was holding back so much. With a quick twist of his wand, she suddenly felt him exposed, his warm, hard length suddenly pressing urgently against her. She gasped, eyes wide but remembered to play her part. She screamed, she screamed and wiggled, and squirmed but Snape had moved upwards, ignoring her legs. Her eyes flashed towards his and she suddenly knew what was expected of her. _No Problem_, she thought a little too eagerly. She noticed the room was still filled with silent laughter but it was more silent know, more intense as the Death Eaters enjoyed the show. Enjoyed her supposed agony. Her professor slipped her gag off but before she could get a word in, he had pressed his tip against her lips. He made a show of pushing himself inside her mouth and she made a show of coughing and sputtering. Snape moaned quietly, as she licked his length, sucking him as hard as she dared while still attempting to show the viewers her disgust and agony.

"_I apologize, Miss Granger…" _He spoke in her mind but all she did was conjure up a fantasy she had stored long ago of sucking her Professor off in class. He shuddered above her and forced himself deeper into the back of her throat.

"_Ah…ah_…." he panted quietly, never one to show strong emotion in front of others as she sucked and pulled at his length, circling her tongue around his tip, forcing her tongue gently into the slit at the top. He grabbed the back of her hair and made a show of forcing her to take him all in. He growled deeply and Hermione shivered relentlessly at the feel of him, her juices flowing freely onto the floor.

_Oh my God… he tastes exquisite…_ she thought rolling her eyes back into her head. At this he suddenly grabbed the back of her head violently, forcing her to stop. Her eyes snapped back to his and she saw how black they were, how dangerous they looked. He was panting and sweating, his face twisted in a painful grimace as he tried not to spill himself in her mouth. She felt him throbbing in her mouth, just one more lick…

"_No!" _ he hissed at her through clenched teeth and pulled her hair tightly, which only served to turn her on more. Laughter erupted around them.

"What's wrong, Snape, did the little Mudblood bite you?" Sneered a voice form behind.

"No," Snape spat, his face still contorted. "She just need to be controlled," he said silkily. "They're like animals, they need to be trained," he said, his voice filled with disdained. There were laughing agreements around the room. He slipped his length from her puffed, pink lips and secured her gag back in place. Conjuring up what she could, she let slip a couple tears past the corner of her eyes, her gaze landing back on Snape's face. He stared at her, his eyes filled to the brim with lust. His lips twitched at the corners as he leaned away from her, scooping up her thighs and stretching them upward as far as they would go. He placed himself between them, exposing her as much as he could and pushed in. Hermione's back arched furiously, her walls clenching around him as he continued in and in and in…

_Oh god! He's so big! It's not going to fit!_ She thought frantically wiggling her hips away form him. He pinned her down hard and continued until finally, he reached his end. Her walls continuously clenched and unclenched around him as she screamed and whimpered, half to keep up appearances, half to release some of the tension building up deep inside her.

He thrust deep, again and again, each time a wave of pleasure circling them both, from his thoughts, she knew he thought she was tight, so tight it was causing his head to reel.

_Get ready Miss Granger_, he grunted in her mind as she was suddenly flipped over on her stomach. She cried out her displeasure but he was there once again forcing her up on her knees so that her face leaned towards the ground but her backside was raised high up in the air. He pushed into her from behind and she screamed. She screamed even though it was muffled because she couldn't take it. The angle was so deep and he was already so large. Pain and pleasure mixed inside her and she whimpered and whined on the ground looking pitiful as her Professor, tall and forceful, pushed his way deep inside with an amount of strength that was almost pain. She closed her eyes and listened to his panting, his grunting breaths as she felt him throb uncontrollably inside her, deep in places she didn't even know existed.

_Professor, professor, oh god, please, please PLEASE! _ She begged in her mind, over and over. Tears slipped down her face as the intense pleasure built up unbearably, but she knew he was holding back just enough so that neither of them came. The room was very silent now as they felt the energy in the room; watched as Snape neared his finish. Finally, after what felt like pleasurable agony, her Professor grabbed her hips forcefully, lifting her butt cheeks high in the air as he drove home, his engorged tip hitting her cervix over and over and over…

And suddenly everything mixed together, his length and thickness sliding against her clamped walls again and again, his balls slapping her clit with every deep thrust and his tip, oh god his tip hit that sweet spot, hit it over and over. Hermione screamed, screamed as loud as she could with the gag still in her mouth. Snape's hands dug deep into her fleshy hips as he buried himself one last time, as far as he could bear, into her core. He let out a long, deep throated growl as he released himself inside her that only made Hermione's tummy quiver even more. Both of them, connected in the deepest part of her, throbbed immensely.

Snape slipped out of her gently, his length now wet and limp. He stood, with as much disdain as he could muster and threw the blindfold down onto her quivering body. Hermione collapsed onto the ground, her body shaking uncontrollably.

Without a word a door creaked open and she heard footsteps retreating, no one spoke a word to her and soon enough, the door was closed with a light 'click'. She was alone, cold, sweating and still unclothed. A tear slipped down her cheek as she curled into herself, her arms still suspended above her head.

Well, at least one of her life long fantasies had come true. As for what was coming next, Hermione could only imagine…

**_THANK YOU! please review if you will =) I am always privy to constructive criticism as well as nice comments! Hehe your encouragement is appreciated! I didn't intend on this being any longer but if I get enough requests, I'm open to doing more chapters. It's up to you guys!_  
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-SS


	2. Chapter 2

SS- _Alright guys, I've decided to continue this story for now! I know this chapter is a little slow and I apologize but now that my smutty fun is over I actually have to build a plot line lol._ _Thank you very much to everyone who reviewed its greatly appreciated! Enjoy!_

Hermione lay quietly, curled in the corner of a barely lit cell, the only light streaming from the full moon, its blue grey light struggling through the smallest circular window she'd ever seen. The cell was the same one she'd been occupying since her untimely arrival. Her arms were no longer held in chains and so she carefully maneuvered her sore and swollen body to face the cell wall, a small amount of straw strewn across the floor prickling her sides. There was a small; incredibly dirty and raggedy blanket covering her. Voldemort had not allowed her clothes, but her tattered blanket was given to her a couple days after her capture when the cold stone began giving her hypothermia.

"_We have some use for you yet, Granger_," Voldemort had whispered to her on one of her many torture sessions. They had no issue torturing her but apparently she wasn't to be killed... Yet.

Hermione shivered against the cold, slightly damp floor. Her eyes were puffy and red but she made no move to rub them. She had cried herself out, she had no more tears to shed, no more pity to bestow upon herself. This was her life now. She just hoped Harry and Ron were finding the horcruxes without her. Coughing slightly, her ribs aching painfully, Hermione reached out gently and traced the wall with her dirt encrusted fingertips, relishing the feel of something, _anything._ She might as well enjoy simple touch… for soon, she believed, she was going to die.

The thought did not stir her, did not provoke tears, did not make her chest swell with sadness. No, she didn't feel much these days. The only thing keeping her sane, oddly enough, was her encounter with Snape. Several times a day she would conjure up the memory, she supposed it should have disturbed her but she couldn't help it. _How long ago had that been?_ She wondered, not knowing in the slightest how long she had been held captive. Her eyes wandered the cell as she recalled the way his hands felt on her, the way his lips curled at the edges, how his beautiful coal eyes searched her own, searched her mind.

A small smile appeared on her lips as she fantasized, her eyes gazing off past the stone of the ceiling as if it wasn't there, as if she could gaze up past it to the stars she was sure were lining the sky.

Suddenly there were footsteps. Hermione sat up quickly, grabbing her raggedy blanket and attempting to cover as much as she could. This seemed to be the ritual somehow, she would attempt to cover herself as they tortured her but they would simply, with a wave of someone's wand, flick it off.

She scuttled backwards until her back hit the wall. She watched, her eyes wide as the large wooden door creaked open and the usual flood of Death Eaters swarmed in. Her breathing had increased as she scanned the faces walking through the door. While she may have been unconcerned with the notion of death, torture was still no picnic.

She waited with bated breath as finally the last couple Death Eaters settled into the cramped cell. Her breath suddenly escaped her in a hollow cough. Snape wasn't there. She felt hollow inside. She still wasn't sure what side he was on but there was a part of her that would give anything for a familiar face. She hadn't seen him since the day he, well…

"Granger…" Voldemort began, his voice soft and cheerful, his eyes evil and glittering. She kept her eyes stuck to the floor.

"_Look at me_!" He hissed at her. Still she refused, her brow furrowing, her eyes still trained on the grey stone. It wasn't like she cared whether she upset him; he was going to torture whether she was petulant or complacent. She watched as his bare, grey feet began walking towards her, the hem of his black robes trailing behind him like a thin film of smoke.

Hermione suddenly felt her neck give a painful twist upwards, a whimper of discomfort escaping her.

"That's better!" Voldemort cried, smiling cruelly. His wand trained on Hermione's head. She stared at the root of all Evil. Voldemort had a cruel face, eyes like burning coals, a lip less mouth with crooked, sharp teeth and a flat nose with slits like a snake. She shivered at the sight of him.

"Where are they, Granger, where are your little friends?" He demanded. But Hermione only bristled.

"I don't know!" She cried angrily, "You know that! I've told you over and over! I don't _know_!" She spat angrily. Breathing heavily, she stood up, her right leg a dead weight under her, broken from the many beatings it had taken. She let the blanket drop to the ground in front of her, they had all seen it before, she couldn't care less about her nakedness, not after all she'd been through.

"My memory is _fuzzy_! I don't know! I don't even know how I got here!" She continued her rant. "You've raped my mind enough times to know that my memory stops there. I. Don't. Know." She was getting light headed; her body was frail, starving, pale and beaten. She knew she was in no shape to be standing, let alone yelling at the Dark Lord but that all faded to the back of her mind as emotions took over.

Voldemort laughed. It was a soft, cruel laugh that none of his followers repeated. They simply stood around and watched silently, some of them baring bruises and cuts, the result of their Master's fury.

"Oh, I am quite aware of the circumstance, Miss Granger," he said gleefully. Hermione realized too late that he had been bating her. Of course he already knew this information, he simply enjoyed wringing her emotions dry.

"However," he began, walking ever so slowly towards her. Hermione felt an awful lot like a sheep, caught in a corner facing a hungry, snarling wolf. He grabbed her wrist forcefully and her knees buckled, her right leg unable to support her weight on her own. "I believe I have a way to remedy the situation." She expected him to continue but he didn't. He simply tossed her onto the floor as if she were a rag doll. Hitting the floor, Hermione cursed, her wrist making a terrible _crack. _

Hermione bit her lips together, willing herself not to cry but as much as she fought, hot tears snaked their way down her cheeks.

"Grab her hand, Goyle," he said triumphantly, a great dirty smile creeping onto his face. Immediately a dark hooded figure rushed forward and grabbed Hermione's fractured wrist, pulling her arm up so that the back of her hand was facing Voldemort. Hermione bit back a whimper of pain as her wrist throbbed, it wasn't nearly as much pain as her leg had been in, or her ribs when they too had broke.

Voldemort knelt down and Hermione wrinkled her nose, the smell of death filing her nostrils and horrid, melting red eyes stared into her own. He grabbed her hand roughly, his eyes never leaving her own.

The door suddenly burst open with a loud, _BANG_! Hermione's head jerked at the noise, her neck snapping to her left. Snape was standing in the door way, his hand still on the door he had pushed forcefully open. Hermione eyed him carefully, not allowing any expression. His eyes were as equally cold as he regarded her on the floor, hand in Voldemort's.

"Severus, wonderful!" Voldemort exclaimed, releasing Hermione's hand and straightening up. "Come. As this was your idea, perhaps you should perform the spell," he finished, a soft, terrible smile curling his lip. Hermione was barely listening. She was raking over her Professor's appearance. His hair was as limp and greasy as usual, although a little longer than she remembered. His eyes were black and cold as ice, his nose hooked and his lips thinned, as if he was irritated. _He's always irritated…_ She thought blandly to herself, remembering his dour expressions and somber attitude in class. And yet… as she stared back at those eyes, focused at the moment on his Master, she couldn't deny the flip in her stomach.

His eyes suddenly flickered to her and she cursed herself for not paying attention to what was going on. Her wrist throbbed painfully as it wrested on her lap.

Snape suddenly took a swift step forward and with a wave of his wand, his frock coat dissolved into mist. He waved it again and this time his black undershirt dissolved with it.

Hermione shuddered, her eyes quickly washing over her Professor's torso, she had never seen him shirtless before. But the fantasy about to begin in her mind was interrupted by the long gash running from his defined shoulder into his bicep. It looked very painful, the cut looked deep and several inches of skin appeared to be torn off at the corners, giving the cut a very jagged, rough look. He approached her carefully and knelt in front of her. He took her hand roughly into his own. Butterflies suddenly erupted in her stomach. Her skin flashed hot and she felt her cheeks flush. Her eyes darted suddenly to his as he squeezed her hand a little painfully. His eyes remained cold and there was no hint of pain on his face even though she watched as a slow trickle of blood leaked its way slowly down his chest. She watched it's journey, a red crimson tear against his white as snow skin. He was just as she had imagined time and time again, lean and muscular with broad shoulders and a slight amount of jet black hair dragging from his chest to down past his pant line. With another painful squeeze of her broken wrist her eyes snapped back to his once again. Her eyes filling with pained tears that she refused to let slide.

He raised his wand and touched it to her skin.

"_Crucio_!" She heard suddenly and gasped in shock and fright as Snape suddenly snapped his hand back from hers, his whole figure writhing in pain. The only sound he made was a quiet grunting as his eyes squeezed shut, his face betraying any screaming he was not allowing.

"Stop!" Hermione was about to scream but just as Snape had begun withering, he ceased, panting on the ground.

"Do not disappoint me, Severus," he hissed quietly. Hermione didn't seem to understand, but Snape sure did. He bowed low in the moonlight. "I would never, endeavor to disappoint, My Lord," he said, his voice rumbling, echoing off the walls. "My only wish is for your success." Voldemort seemed to be pleased with this answer and so retreated, allowing Snape to once again grab Hermione's hand, palm facing downward.

"_Track hostis hostem occidere," _Snape whispered and his chest gleamed white, it must be painful, she thought as his eye twitched continuously, his lips thin. The white light suddenly shot along his outstretched hand, turning lilac, then dark purple as it shot from the end of his wand. Hermione screamed. She cried and whimpered, trying to pull her hand away from him but he had her in an iron grip.

"Stop!" She screamed at him, still attempting to wrench her hand free but, he wouldn't budge. "Please!" She shrieked as her hand burnt fiercely, it felt as though someone was stabbing her over and over with hot lead. And as soon as the pain had begun, it was over. He finally released her hand but she had been pulling so tightly that when he let go, she toppled over backwards. She looked down at the back of her hand; it looked as though there was a round, burnt hole in the back of it, with tiny deep purple veins creeping along her skin in ever direction from it. It almost looked like a poisonous, ominous, purple sun.

"Wonderful!" Voldemort purred, walking past Hermione to Snape, who was still kneeling on the floor. "Wonderful…" Voldemort whispered again, his voice sounding cruel yet approving. "I must say, Severus, you have impressed me today, I was beginning to have my doubts…"

Snape picked himself up from the floor, waving his wand so that his clothes suddenly reappeared, dressing him in his usual black cloak.

"Never again, will I give you reason to harbor doubts of my loyalty, My Lord," Snape said silkily, his eyes still icy, cold. Flat. His eyes never returned to meet hers. And she felt her stomach churn terribly, she could stand the pain, she could stand the taunting, but to have him ignore her when she needed someone, _anyone, _was heartbreaking. And without another glance in her direction, he turned suddenly, and left. His black robes billowing impressively behind him.

"Time to go, Granger, I believe you have outstayed your welcome," Voldemort said lazily, ordering two of the Death Eaters around to throw her out. Hermione couldn't believe her ears. They were letting her go? Really? This wasn't possible. But sure enough, two burly men in black cloaks grabbed her underneath her arms, lifting her to her feet. Her knees wobbled and gave way, she didn't have enough strength to carry her own weight, let alone support her broken leg. And so the Death Eaters brought her to the entrance of what seemed to be a Manor of some sort and threw her onto the ground outside, throwing her feeble blanket on top of her naked and broken body. Hermione's heart beat furiously and she tried to clamber to her feet but the Death Eaters had a few more spells to throw at her before she left. Writhing in pain, Hermione finally lay in the grass, only a few feet away from the Manor, and felt the familiar tug of unconsciousness. _I need to find Harry and Ron…_ were her last thoughts before her brain shut down, her world collapsing into darkness…

Severus Snape baited his time, waiting until midnight, waiting until the Dark Lord left. And finally, he left the Manor, returning to the Ministry to terrorize the staff further still. Snape breathed deeply, finishing up the last few of the Dark Lord's potions. His mind began to wonder, he knew why Granger couldn't remember where she had left her companions. Because, he had charmed her memory, ensuring the details of her capture were unclear to her. Should the Dark Lord _ever_ figure out what her and her friends were up to… Snape shivered. With a casual flick of his hand he moved a piece of stray hair out of his eyes. The potion he was currently brewing bubbled and hissed at him, forcing him to pay attention. He chopped and skewered a few more ingredients before his thoughts wondered again. His lip curled unpleasantly as he recalled Miss Granger's unfortunate first day of capture. He had been forcing the memory from his mind as best he could. He couldn't have been more disgusted with himself, forced to take the innocence of a young witch, and a student at that! He shook with rage, his face sneering at the reflection he saw in the potion before him. How many times had he been forced to rape young women in his time as a Death Eater, many… many but none had made him feel as disgusted, as self loathing as he did in that moment. Granger, she was just a child! A know-it-all, difficult, stubborn and irritating know-it-all, but a child nonetheless.

He remembered the way she looked at him, her eyes hopeful, pleading that he help her. He growled as he bottled the potion for Voldemort. Gritting his teeth, he recalled the pleasure he felt in her, she was so soft, so innocent, and yet…. His mind also recalled the way her mind begged him to take her, begged him for more, showed him images of her pleasuring herself to his name.

"_No!_" He hissed at himself, angry for allowing the memory to take over, angry for actually thinking she could have enjoyed what he'd done to her. Still storming about the room, he threw ingredients back in their place, waved his wand about exaggeratedly to clean his cauldron and finally stormed out into the hall. His bad mood streamed into the next thought. He swallowed a chunk of his guilt into his stomach as he thought about the way she had twisted in his hand, screaming at him to stop the spell. But he had to do it. Voldemort had not been happy the day he violated Granger, he was suspicious. Snape repressed a shudder as he remembered the pain he had endured for that _disappointment. _That was why he had not allowed himself to visit Granger, why he could not speak to her through Legilimency at the risk of Voldemort becoming all the more wary of his loyalty. And that was why he had suggested the curse.

Snape walked silently through the Manor, most of the Death Eaters had already vacated, but he was still wary of the ones who hadn't. Silently and swiftly he traveled through the many halls and finally, without incident, he reached the front doors. Taking a deep breath, he opened them, walking out into the night were he spotted a small dark figure, sprawled out on the grass. He walked over to her carefully, and bent over, picking her up in one swift movement. He scowled at her nakedness and threw the tattered blanket on top of her, covering her tightly. His arm protested the action but he didn't care, the child needed help and he'd be damned if it wasn't he who gave it.

There were footsteps coming from the Manor and Snape's heart suddenly lurched, if he were caught with Granger… He turned quickly and took off running into the night. He just needed to get past the wards that prevented him from disaparating.

Granger's head lolled onto his chest as he ran, her messy, dirty hair clinging to her face. He was careful not to jostle her around too much, knowing all to well her injuries. Snape growled fiercely, his eyes sparkling with determination as his arm began to scream at him, the great tear in his skin feeling as though someone was ripping it apart further. _Almost_… he thought desperately as he approached the trees. He heard shouting behind him, someone was following, but Snape was confident they could not see him. Finally, he passed through a wall of cold wind and knew he was past the enchantments and prepared himself to apparate. He looked one more time down at Granger's right hand, as it lay limp by her side, the sickly purple mark still glowing faintly. He grimaced, and with a '_crack_' disapparated, ready to face his punishment from the Dark Lord and ready to answer questions Granger was, no doubt, going to ask.

_**Thank you everyone once again! I know you have questions but rest assured they will be answered in the next chapter! Please review, I really appreciate it and it encourages me to continue! Thanks again!**_

_**-SS**_


	3. Chapter 3

**SS**- _Hey guys! Chapter 3 is up! Thank you so much to everyone who's reviewed, you're the best! It really is a great motivator to see that. I'm really coming up with some exciting ideas for this story so I hope you guys can bear with me until I can get to the juicy parts! I'm really trying hard to keep these guys as close to the original characters as possible so I'd like some feed back on that as well =) Happy reading!_

The grass glistened softly in the moonlight as Severus Snape touched down as gently as is possible with apparition. The wind blew softly across the grounds and the stars shone high above, casting an eerie light upon the dark figure hurrying towards a large, dreadful looking manor. The neighborhood seemed abandoned and the mansion itself looked decrepit; its windows were encrusted with dust of a hundred years past, it's paneling and doorways peeled and cracking. Snape, cloak billowing around him, stopped suddenly in front of the house, sneering up at it. It was quiet, even the wind seemed to hush around him as he entered the foreboding structure. His footsteps seemed to echo heavily around the entrance as he stared around, cobwebs and grime cluttering the empty space. Grunting, he continued forward, realizing there wasn't much time to spare.

With a quickly muttered "_Scorgify_" the sunken couch was suddenly clean, all traces of age suddenly wiped away by an invisible cloth. Gingerly, Snape bent forward, laying Granger down carefully upon the sofa. He regarded her painfully as the tension in his arm was finally released. Quickly, he glided towards the door and began whispered frantically, naming spell after spell, walls of liquid crystal soaring up into the air and then moments later, disappearing. Satisfied, and suddenly, very, very fatigued he lumbered back into the house, clutching his arm as it burnt fiercely. He pulled open his robes and grabbed 3 vials; lilac, deep blue and orange potions. Walking over to where Granger lay, he pulled up a dusty chair and sat down upon it. Sighing, he uncorked them and went to work, rubbing the deep blue potion on her many scrapes and bruises, including the sickly mark upon her hand. Grimacing, his eyes feeling sunken and dry, he uncorked the last two bottles and tilted her head gently, his fingers trembling slightly from the amount of curses he'd been subjected too. He slid the potions down her throat easily as if her body had been waiting for them all along. She gave a sudden, violent shudder and then was still, her breathing more even and her face suddenly more relaxed. He knew in a matter of moments she would be in a deep, restful sleep. His eyes drooped as he watched color seep its way back into her cheeks. His head pounding, arm throbbing horribly, he flicked his wand and his top clothing had been removed so he could inspect his arm more thoroughly. His lip curled in annoyance as he noticed that the skin was even more damaged than before, he ruffled through his robes, looking for another lilac potion but realized he had used the last of it on Granger.

He sighed in defeat, he would tend to his wounds at a later date, right now, he needed rest. And so, with a few more heavy blinks, Snape fell into a restless sleep on the hard back chair stationed at Granger's side.

Hermione sighed, a strange warmth spreading through her. She felt as though she were floating high in the sky. She revealed in the wonderful warmth and softness of whatever was underneath her. Slowly, leisurely, her eyes flickered open. What she saw made her jump in fright. Gasping, her hand on her chest, she gazed at her once again shirtless Professor. Her eyes raked over him hungrily for a few moments, before she slapped her forehead. What was _wrong_ with her? She didn't know where she was, she STILL didn't have any damn clothes on, the last she remembered of Snape he was a Death Eater/murderer and here she was _gawking_ at him. She had a sudden urge to smack her head against a wall, much the way she had seen Dobby, the house elf, do. Silently, she raised herself off the couch and crept over to where Snape's wand lay beside him on the floor. She snatched it up quickly and pointed it right at his heart.

_Do it!__ Do something! _Her mind pleaded, but her hand trembled as she watched his sleeping face, eyes sullen, and face ghastly white. _He killed Dumbledore, you idiot! He murdered him in cold blood and how many others? You can't trust him!_ Her mind screamed at her hysterically but still her hand trembled, hesitant to do any real damage. Quietly, he groaned in his sleep, his eyes creasing in the corners unpleasantly as if he were in pain. Hermione stared at the cut on his shoulder as if it was going to bite her. It looked really ghastly, she could see the deep tissue of his muscle and a sliver of bone peaking through the gash. It looked much worse than she remembered, as if Snape were made of string and someone had unsown him.

_Where am I?_ She thought suddenly, her eyes raking over the dusty lumps and shabby objects laying about a large -what seemed to be- living room. It was at that moment that she realized she could move fully without pain. Excitedly, she checked her body for cuts, bruises or brakes but found none. It was then that she also noticed the empty vials sitting next to the couch she had been sleeping on. Nervously, she peered over at her sleeping Professor and noted again his grave injury.

"You saved me, didn't you?" She asked him quietly, knowing he would sleep on. She sat back down with a heavy heart and waved Snape's wand at two dusty pairs of rags on the side table, transfiguring them into beige colored baggy clothes. Slipping them on gently, she sat facing Snape, his wand twirling between her fingers. She seemed to be deciding upon something and then suddenly, nervously, she reached forward, putting a hand on his. He didn't wake.

"Please don't kill me," she breathed and grabbed his wrist somewhat tightly, secretly feeling a little flip in her tummy as his soft skin rubbed against her own. He grunted and twitched in her hand but still, he did not wake. She had never been truly perfect with healing spells but she knew a couple and had been practicing them all summer. She lifted his wand and placed it gently at the beginning of the tear.

"_Sana__to ta__fortitu dine__contendet __totum __facere quod__solet_," she repeatedly quietly, it took some time, but eventually the tears around his wound seemed to be getting smaller and smaller, sowing themselves back into place. Slowly, minute, by minute she dragged his wand up the wound, making slow but good progress. Small beads of sweat began pouring down her temple and she wiped them off aggressively, her eyes never leaving the bloody gash.

"Almost done…" She whispered to herself, as the wand finally made it's way up to the last few inches of damaged skin. Suddenly, a hand, strong and unyielding caught her wrist. Black eyes snapped awake, boring into her own.

"What in the _world_, Miss Granger, are you doing?" he hissed at her, his eyes narrowing. Hermione trembled slightly, her wrist bruising slightly under the pressure his fingers were causing.

"P-please Professor, I-I was just trying to help," she said weakly, her eyes trying in vain to escape his penetrating gaze.

"I do not require assistance!" He barked and she recoiled as if burnt. He flung her wrist back at her and tried to stand but stumbled. Hermione lept up, without thinking, and reached for him.

"Leave me be!" He spat, his eyes flashing dangerously but he still stumbled weakly away from her. Hermione, with a sudden flash of courage, grabbed hold of him tightly, using her own strength to lift him back up on his feet.

"Professor, really!" Hermione said quite curtly, reminding them both of Professor McGonagall. She grabbed him none too gently around the waist and pulled him back over to the couch. When she turned to face him he looked as though he had swallowed something sour.

"I'm just trying to help," she said quietly and tried to reach for his arm but he backed away from her.

"My wand, Miss Granger," he said, more calmly, but just as bitter. She looked at his wand in her hand and pursed her lips, where was her own wand? As if reading her mind, he pulled it out from his robes, which were piled in a heap on the ground.

"Trade?" She asked him bashfully. He raised an eyebrow at her, as if to say '_duh'_, and they swapped, Hermione glowed after having the feel of cool wood back on her fingertips.

"Now…," Snape said in a deadly whisper, "if you are quite finished _helping_…" Hermione bristled; he said it as if she were trying to murder him!

"No, as a matter of fact, I'm not done!" She snapped back. "In case you haven't noticed, you're arm is half off and— oh for heavens sake, you've ripped it open again!" She cried, her cheeks tinged with irritation. Snape looked idly at his ripped arm, he had indeed ripped open what Hermione had just fixed. He waved it off with an air of impatience, attempting once more to pick himself up off the sofa. Hermione's wand snapped up, facing him but to her dismay, his was also pointed at her.

"I do not have the time, nor do I have the patience for these childish games, Miss Granger," he hissed at her, his lip curling into his usual sneer.

"You think I'm playing, Professor Snape? You think, after everything that just happened, after all the things that yo—they did to me, that I'm playing _childish_ games?" Her voice was low, quiet, daring him to contest recent events. He stared at her, his eyes solid, impassive. She rolled up the sleeve of her baggy shirt and shoved the ugly purple mark into his face. "You think I wanted this? You think this was all a game?" They gazed at each other, not saying a word. Finally, after several antagonizing minutes, Snape's eyes glazed over, his weakness getting the better of him. He growled at her, low in his throat, and finally—slowly—sat back down. Hermione would have smiled had she not been afraid he'd hex her.

She worked in silence, neither of them really wanting to speak. Hermione kept biting her lip, concentrating on her spell. Every once in a while she would notice his eyes droop and she wondered how weak he was actually feeling, how much pain and suffering he was actually holding in.

"Professor…" she asked timidly, her eyes flickering quickly up to his own. He was looking far away as if he couldn't see her. She cleared her throat.

"Um, Professor?" She asked again, her voice a little stronger. Slowly, every so slowly, his gaze, so intense landed back on her own and she shivered, trying her hardest to keep her desire hidden. He did not reply, however, she knew she had his attention.

"What really happened with Professor Dumbledore, sir?"

They talked quietly for a few hours, Hermione prying into things Snape didn't want to answer. He remained tight lipped as he explained the story, his face tired. Hermione suddenly realized he looked ages older than he should. It crossed her mind why he was even bothering to answer her at all, it would seem easier to tell her to keep her nose out of his business… but he didn't. She wondered if perhaps he was simply too exhausted to be snide about the subject, but soon enough, she caught on to the quick glances he kept making at the sickly mark on her hand.

Silence lapsed between them again and Snape leaned his head back gingerly against the couch. Hermione was feeling slightly ill after everything he told her. She fiddled with her wand, twirling it in her hands, sneaking quick glances at her handy work. Snape's arm was looking far better than it had, although there was a nasty scar, she soon realized his torso was littered with them. He had put his cloak on ages ago after he caught her staring at a particular rounded scar near his navel.

"Professor…" she asked him again and Snape sighed, his hands reaching towards his temple to message them. The girl never seemed to run out of questions. Sighing, he lifted his aching head once again to look at the girl. She was still very dirty, not unlike himself, her hair sticking up in a wild mass, her chocolate brown eyes shining with interest.

"What is it, Miss Granger?" He was so tired, it was difficult even to sound annoyed, he just wanted some decent sleep… and then there it was. That burning guilt in his stomach. After what he'd done to Granger, his eyes drifted painfully again to her right hand. He knew he owed her some explanations.

"What is this thing?" She asked, raising the hand in question. He sighed, resigned.

"That, is a rather nasty curse, Miss Granger. It will enable the Dark Lord to track your every move. If you're wondering why you were set free, the answer should be obvious to you now…" And indeed it was.

"They wanted me to find Harry and Ron," she said, her voice hollow. "And I would have led him straight to them," she said bitterly, her eyes cast angrily towards the ground.

"Of course you would have," Snape said impatiently, waving his hand as if the matter was of no consequence. "How could you possibly know what that mark was? Even if you are an insufferable know-it-all…" he trailed off and she glared at him. He returned it and Hermione's gaze was quickly diverted.

"But then…" Her eyes suddenly widened, "Oh Professor! They'll know I'm with you! They'll know you –" He cut her off abruptly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Honestly, Miss Granger, do you really believe me to be that idiotic?" He sneered at her, his eyes boring holes into her.

"Of course not, Sir, I mean…" She blushed furiously, moving her foot around restlessly. She took a deep breath and started again. "I assume you've put up enchantments to block the tracking, but… but if this is an extraordinary curse, how—forgive me—but how do you know they're strong enough?" Hermione asked timidly, expecting another tongue lashing. Snape only titled his head, evaluating her.

"Because, I invented the curse…" He said slowly, gauging her reaction. She said nothing and so he continued. "You are safe here, Miss Granger, and only here, as soon as you step foot outside this manor, the Dark Lord will be on you faster than you can say '_Potter_'."

Hermione took this in slowly, her mind working overtime. "So I can't help them…" She said quietly, her eyes welling with silent tears. "I can't be there for them, I don't even know where they are, how they're getting along…. Nothing," she said, her voice trembling slightly, the impact of her words settling in her chest. Snape watched as tears slipped past her eyes, down her face. He sighed, this was going to get complicated. Cursing Albus Dumbledore for all he was worth, he turned to her but offered no physical comfort, it just wasn't in him to do so.

"Miss Granger…" He started slowly, taking his time. "I believe there is a way you can still help Potter and Weasley, however it will take a couple of days." Hermione's eyes suddenly went wide. Clearing his throat, he continued, "I will also be working on a way to relieve you of that curse." He nodded towards her hand.

"You mean, you can lift it?" She asked uncertainly, glaring at the purple sun.

"Perhaps," he said, his voice suddenly hoarse. Hermione's head snapped up and she looked him over. He really did look dreadful. His head lolled heavily on the couch behind him and she watched as his eyes flickered heavily.

"You should really rest, Professor…" She said quietly, but there was no need, his eyes had shut and his chest rose and fell gently. Sighing, Hermione lifted herself off the chair and moved towards him, moving him gently into a lying position. Grasping his head gently, she moved it onto a pillow. She took this rare opportunity to let her eyes wash over him without his knowledge. He seemed so distraught even in his sleep, it made her chest squeeze painfully, as if someone had been holding her heart in an iron grip. He had done so much for her, so much and she doubted he even realized it. She reached out a trembling hand and moved a piece of his coal black hair our of his face, tucking it gingerly behind his ear.

Hermione let out a nervous, quiet laugh, if he ever caught wind that she had touched him while he was sleeping, she was sure he'd hand deliver her back to Voldemort. Needing to get away from all the depressing thoughts, she turned on her heel and took a good long look at the mansion she was in.

So _this_ was Snape Manor...

**SS- Thank you once again! I hope you enjoyed, I'm really exhausted so if there's some errors I'm terribly sorry! Please review it's always greatly appreciated!**


	4. Chapter 4

**SS- First off, thank you to everyone who reviewed, I love you guys!**_ I'm really sorry this one took a while to upload. Shit hit the fan in my personal life so if the updates take a while I apologize in advance. For all the suggestions and people wanting to know when the steamy parts will come, they are coming! But I'm not going to all of a sudden make Snape all fluffy and warm inside, that's just not him so I'm warming him up to the idea. Happy reading!_

Days passed very quickly for Hermione who sat curled up on a small mattress in the corner of a dimply lit bedroom. She wore a short, baggy night gown; one she had found lying in the dresser. Since her arrival, Hermione had spent most of her afternoons exploring the manor. Professor Snape had cleaned up nicely, restoring at least some kind of life into the house. He had given her the option of an array of bedrooms, in which case, she chose the smallest.

"It belonged on my mother's side," Snape had said quietly while showing her around. There was something off about her Professor, she had noticed. She had thought once he had a good rest, he would be back to his normal, bitter self, but something was wrong. The bags under his eyes never left, his face never regained colour, and his biting attitude seemed too much effort for him to conjure up. The only time he really snapped at her was when she questioned his health. Often, she heard him moan or yell in his sleep, that is, when he did sleep. Usually she wouldn't see him much; he would either be at Hogwarts, cooped up in the Headmaster's office, or in the basement, making potions for Voldemort.

Hermione bolted upright on her bed, listening. She swore she heard something. Hair in disarray, she gazed at a clock stationed at the back of the wall.

2:05 am.

Her nerves felt bunched tight as she listened. She never quite felt at ease when Snape was out of the house. She knew he had put wards up around the mansion, but even he had warned her to keep her wand with her at all times. Hermione slipped off the bed quietly, her wand clutched tightly in her hand. She tip toed to the door and listened intently. There was no sound. Sighing, she sank down, her back against her closed door. She gazed out the window; it was pitch black, the only light in the room came from the small, tattered lamp by her bedside table. There was a full length mirror just in front of her against the back wall and she stared at herself. Her butterscotch eyes were bright and alert even though her face hinted at her tiredness. She had been having a very difficult time sleeping, images of Voldemort, memories of her torture plaguing her. Besides these disturbing images, she was either kept awake by her Professors nightmare filled sleep, or awake, too on edge to sleep when he wasn't around.

Her hair, though very much clean now, lay in messy ringlets around her face, lightened to a golden brown from being out in the sun. Her baggy nightgown hung low on her shoulders, exposing her neck. She thought of resizing it to fit her but enjoyed loose fitting clothes.

Suddenly, and so unexpected that Hermione jumped violently, there was a loud bang and crash of broken glass. She scuttled to her feet and wrenched the door open but could not go through it, fear paralyzing her.

She gripped her wand tightly and shook herself, if it were a Death Eater; she'd have to pull herself together. With a sinking feeling, Hermione began descending the stairs, as quietly and as quickly as she dared. Her chest squeezed tight as she drew nearer to the entrance. _It has to be a Death Eater_, she thought in a panic, Snape never returned in the middle of the night, he would either stay in the manor or be gone until morning. She finally reached the bottom of the stairs but flattened herself against the wall opposite to the kitchen where she had heard the noise.

There was no sound.

Eyes wide, a suddenly clap of thunder sounded, a flash of lightening brightened up the room and she saw what she feared most. On the floor in front of her for just a brief second, was the shadow of a large figure.

Heart racing, palms sweaty, Hermione jumped out from behind the wall, her wand brandished, a curse on the tip of her tongue. She stopped dead, mouth still lightly open. A roll of thunder clapped through the house as she stared at her Professor. Snape was unconscious, slumped on the kitchen table, blood trickling rapidly into a pool underneath him. Hermione inhaled sharply, stumbling over to help. She grabbed him around the shoulders, struggling to pull him onto the ground. He was much wider and taller than her.

"Professor!" She gasped, as she noticed the deep gash on his forehead, leading down his throat behind his frock coat. She leaned down close to him, her ear on his chest. His heart was beating dully but he wasn't breathing.

"Oh God, oh God!" she breathed, panicking. She grabbed her wand.

"_Anapenoi_," she gasped, a pale green light shooting into his chest. Nothing happened. She grabbed his head, forcing it upwards to open his airways further. Blood pulsed down the side of her hand, soaking her with crimson.

"_Vulnera Sanentur!"_ The blood began flowing backwards, inching its way back into the cut. He still wasn't breathing. Her eyes landed on his lips, slightly parted. Grabbing his head firmly, she leaned in, her mouth inches from his. Hermione hesitated, her lips quivering, hovering just millimetres away. Her lips began to tingle, so close to his and suddenly... he exhaled. His eyes flickered open, they were foggy, unclear.

"Lily?" she heard him murmur, his eyes curious, longing.

Who was Lily? She backed away gently and suddenly his eyes refocused on her own. She watched as they hardened, and she felt something drop into her stomach; disappointment. He wasn't happy to see her. _Why would he be?_ She asked herself. _You're the one with a crush, not him. _

To her immense surprise he reached his hand up to her, even though his eyes were still guarded. She grasped it in her own and helped him into a sitting position on the floor. She wondered briefly how she must appear, wearing a baggy night gown, her hair wild and covered in his blood.

Snape rubbed his neck gingerly, feeling the cut as yet another scar to add to his collection. He grunted, moving his back against a cabinet so he could remain in a sitting position. Hermione sat across from him, allowing her back to slide down the wall until her bottom hit the floor. For a time they said nothing, eyes locked in a kind of trance. She was aware that she had just saved his life, had she not been there, he would have surely died. It seemed as though her Professor had come to the same conclusion for he regarded her curiously.

Another bolt of lightning flashed through the room.

"What is it with you, Miss Granger, in constantly touching me without my permission?" He asked her but his tone did not hold any venom as it should. Hermione squirmed, wondering if he had indeed been awake when she had tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. Snape sighed, his face once again looking much older.

"I suppose I should… thank you, Miss Granger," he muttered distractedly, rubbing his shoulder.

"Are you hurt still?" Hermione asked cautiously, she knew he wasn't in a favourable mood and didn't want to provoke any bitterness she had yet to see from him.

"Nothing to concern yourself with," he drawled, eyeing her suspiciously. Hermione let the silk of his voice wash over her. Her stomach twisting uncomfortably and her mouth dry as he continued.

"Perhaps you should… clean up," he said, nodding at her blood soaked hands and chest. Hermione blushed, she had honestly forgotten about the blood when he began speaking. It felt good to hear his voice, she felt as though she hadn't heard him in ages.

Snape watched as she lifted herself off the floor, walked over to the sink just behind him and washed her hands. It wasn't what he had it mind, he meant she should change her clothing entirely, cursing himself when he realized that the blood wasn't the only reason he wished she would remove such _short _clothing. She turned abruptly before he could suggest once again that she change and sank down beside him.

"Professor?" She asked, her head tilted. Snape turned to her, she was very close to him and he didn't like it. He was about to tell her so when he caught her scent, it was vanilla with a hint of cinnamon. His eye flickered quickly to her long, smooth, exposed legs. Immediately cursing himself, he put up his shields, allowing his eyes to go blank as they turned to her.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" His tone a little harsher than he had intended. He watched as she bit her lip, her eyes worried.

"Never mind," she said quickly, ducking her head so that a mass of dark golden hair hid her face. Snape grunted, feeling a migraine begin a slow, agonizing beat in the back of his head. Out of the corner of his eyes he picked up on her quick glances in his direction, as if she were contemplating asking him again. Suddenly, she got up and rolled the sleeves of her nightgown up past her now clean elbows. She whispered a warming spell on her hands and moved in front of him.

"Professor, seeing as you so evidently despise being touched without permission, I am asking, may I touch you?" He regarded her carefully, her scent filling his mind. He hesitated, looking at her suspiciously, but nodded. She undid the buttons at the top of his neck, loosening the coat enough to allow her hands to slip inside. Hermione would have squealed with delight had she not been afraid he would chuck her across the room. She knew he was probably aching horribly, probably punished more than his body could handle. She watched his eyes as she slipped her fingers around his neck, massaging the tight area. She moved her hands over his shoulders and marvelled at their strength, pushing down hard on any knots she found. His lips thinned as he suppressed a moan, his eyes fluttering. She slipped her hands out of his coat so she could scoot around behind him. After some coaxing, he finally readjusted himself on the floor so that she could get to his back. She took her time pulling his cloak down his shoulders, her eyes widening at the curve of his muscles, the smoothness of his porcelain skin. Trying not to make her arousal apparent, she crossed her legs, her cheeks reddening furiously. Hermione continued to work the muscles in his back until finally, the difficult knots seemed to lessen. He stayed mostly quiet but she heard the occasional grunt when she found a tight area.

_Oh. My. God._ She thought, her eyes closing slightly, her brain filled with images of the tight muscles she might find were she to uncover more clothing… Suddenly he stiffened and pulled away slightly. She sighed quietly in frustration; she was going to have to learn to be less obvious.

Snape was feeling immensely uncomfortable; as much as he was secretly pleased with her ministrations he had never felt such energy around him. The young witch definitely had a presence about her. He felt her hunger and was mildly shocked. _Of course she's excitable you idiot, she's a young, lonely, hormonal witch; _he berated himself, pulling away from her. He tried to raise himself off the floor but once again she never failed to fall in closely next to him, assuring that he didn't fall. Before he had a chance to escape, she grabbed his arm tightly so she could support him.

Despite himself, he smirked at her, both of them knowing that he could easily free himself from her grasp had he been in any condition. She smiled shyly back at him and they walked up the stairs together. She laid him down gently on his bed and was reluctant to let him go. She felt goose bumps rise on her skin as he relinquished her. Blushing, Hermione turned to leave but just before she left the room she heard him clear his throat.

"Miss Granger," he began, his voice dangerously quiet. She turned slowly, the hair on the back of her neck standing up. They locked eyes, his were cold and intense as they regarded her, and then they softened slightly. "If I were you, I would be a little more prudent as to whom I... seek satisfaction with." He said, letting the weight of his gaze take her on.

"Sir?" She began, her cheeks flushing furiously.

"I... am not—," here he coughed, seemingly at a loss for words. "I should not be mistaken for someone whom you can seek affections from." He waved his hand impatiently. "I am a dangerous ally, Miss Granger," his eyes hardened again, "I cannot provide what you seek, and if there were any way I could provide you with protection that did not involve me personally, I would do so." Hermione felt her heart sink, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from him, they were trapped, entranced. She understood. He was dangerous. Unfortunately this only made the longing in her stomach intensify.

"Good night, Professor," she said quietly, shutting the door behind her. She traipsed her way back into her modest room and threw herself onto the bed, a small tear escaping the corner of her eye. She was frustrated, she longed for him, she wanted him. The way his hands moved, the muscle at the corner of his jaw that twitched impatiently, his eloquent speech and those eyes.

God, Those eyes.

She understood what he meant, he _was_ dangerous. He _was_ broken down. But this only made her longing worse. She squirmed on her bed as she remembered the way he looked at her, the coolness and excitement in his eyes. She lay on her back, running her hands over her breasts, twisting her nipples gently when she found them. Her back arched gently and she moaned. She conjured up a fantasy she had always kept in the back of her mind whenever she needed it. She was kissing him, those soft lips, and his hands running along her body. Oh god, if only she could kiss him. She imagined his tongue forcing its way into her mouth, tasting her. Hermione's eyes rolled back into her head, her hands reaching farther down until she uncovered the hem of her nightgown. She imagined his hand with hers, reaching down, rubbing, kneading.

"Oh, _Severus_..." she moaned, allowing the freedom of whispering his first name to fill her up. She rubbed her clit hard, imagining him forcing her up against the kitchen table, grabbing her hair, forcing her head down. She panted on her bed, her legs spread wide, chest glistening with sweat. Next she imaged pinning him down, ridding him hard, watching his eyes as he climaxed, spilling forcefully up inside her. The heaviness in her tummy built up and she covered her mouth to muffle her scream. Her body twitched madly as she recovered, suddenly quiet, listenening.

She heard a crash in the next room but after listening to his mumbled cursing, she knew he was having a tantrum. She noticed a pattern. Whenever he came back from a meeting with Voldemort, he would hide in his room and let out his frustration on the objects lying about the house. Something else she had noticed about her Professor, as much as he was cool and stoic usually, he had an explosive part of him too where a burst of emotion would get the better of him.

Ignoring the muffled noises of crashing objects and cursing, Hermione lay, now more relaxed, and allowed her heavy eyelids to close. Her thoughts churning with the nights events, a question nagging at the back of her mind, a thought of a person named Lily.

Hermione was woken the next morning by a light tapping on her door.

"Miss Granger?" Came the voice she was all too happy to hear.

"Yes?" She asked groggily, sitting up on her bed, rubbing he eyes. He opened the door and walked in, clad in his usual black cloak but his hair was wet after taking a shower. He looked rather pleased with himself but hid it well.

"I believe I have found a way for you to communicate with Mr. Weasley and Potter," he began and Hermione lept up out of her seat, stumbling to get closer to him. Her eyes wide with excitement, he handed her what looked like the Put-Outer Dumbledore had given to Ron.

"How did you get this, Professor?" She asked, suddenly suspicious. He rolled his eyes impatiently at her and she shut her mouth.

"This is not the exact item Albus gave to Mr Weasley. I invented this little device but it has the same core. No, it will not hold the same properties but the core will allow a kind of link to be created and you may speak to them, at the very least." Hermione glowed, her face alight with gratitude.

"Thank you Professor! Thank—," he cut her off with a wave of his hand.

"You are not to disclose your location, is that understood?" He said to her very seriously. "You are also not to disclose that you are with me, it is... better if they are unaware of my allegiance," he said a little uncomfortably.

She nodded and he handed her the device.

"Can I try them now?" She asked eagerly, rolling the small item in her hand. He nodded slowly and they both sat down on her bed. Snape leaned forward and tapped his wand to the object.

"_Coagmento_," he said gently and it levitated from Hermione's hand into the air, rotating slowly. He nodded to her and so she cleared her throat.

"Um... Hello?" She asked, her stomach flipping. She could hear rustling and muffled voices, having a feeling the Put-Outer was in Ron's pocket. She glanced over at Snape nervously and he nodded again.

"Ron? Harry?" She asked more loudly, her voice wavering a little.

"What was that?" She heard Harry's voice and the rustling stopped.

"What was what?" Asked Ron uncertainly. The rustling began again and she spoke up, even louder, more excited.

"Ron? Ron it's me!" she cried at the object.

"Hermione?" Harry's disbelieving voice. Finally the voices were clear, Ron having taken the lighter out of his pocket.

"Yes! Yes it's me!" She squealed, her eyes wet. "Oh God Harry, Ron, are you alright?" Tears began sliding down her face.

"Us? 'Mione, you were the one they captured! We thought you died!" Ron bellowed, Harry attempting to say the same think at the same time.

"Calm down, calm down! It's ok, _I'm_ ok!"

"Oh thank God, where are you?" Harry asked.

"Um..." Hermione glanced over at Snape's sour face, he shook his head violently.

"I-I can't tell you. I'm sorry, but it would put us all in danger." Silence, and then...

"Ok..." They said together slowly.

"I'm so sorry, but I-I have to stay where I am, but I'll be able to help you! I have access to books and notes; I can help you figure out the rest of the horcruxes!" She said breathlessly, her eyes still streaming. She missed them terribly. They talked for a few more minutes; they informed her that they still weren't sure how to break the locket and were no closer to getting the other items. They discussed several theories but she assured them she would be spending all her time trying to figure it out.

"Thank Merlin for you, 'Mione," Ron said, his voice relieved but grumpy.

"I'll talk to you guys later ok? If you ever need to talk to me, um..." She glanced over at Snape again and he mouthed the word _Coagmento. _

"Just tape the lighterand say '_Coagmento_', ok?" They said their goodbyes, Hermione rubbing her red eyes furiously. She caught the lighter as it fell back into her hands and offered it back to Snape.

"It is yours, Miss Granger." He still looked as though he had swallowed a lemon whole and she wondered if was because of Harry. He got up from her bed, swinging his travelling cloak around him but stopped at the door way.

"If you are... feeling up to it, Miss Granger," he began, "I have also found a temporary amulet that will allow you to leave the premises undetected for several hours. That being said, I have a mission I must fulfill in the next coming week and if you wish to take this time to leave the manor..." he trailed off.

"You mean, I can come with you?" Hermione asked excitedly, bounding off her bed. She was thrilled, it had been weeks since she'd been cooped up, not allowed to venture out past the gardens.

"Only if you follow every order I ask of you!" He said sharply, eyeing her sternly. "This will be of the upmost importance for your safety. There shouldn't be an incident, but should there be, I must have full confidence that you will listen, and _obey_." She felt like she was back in school, his voice was lecturing and his eyes surveyed her until she squirmed.

"Of course," she said curtly, a little annoyed that he even had to mention it. She wasn't one of the dunderheads in his class, she knew when to shut up and listen.

Satisfied with the response, Snape swept away and was about to leave for the second time when Hermione piped up.

"If you don't mind me asking, Professor, what is your mission?" she asked curiously, expecting a bitter '_none of your business_.' But instead he turned slowly, his eyes darkly amused, the corner of his mouth twitching comically.

"I have a date," he said and smirked at her shocked expression.

**THANK YOU! Please continue to review, you all know how warm and fuzzy that makes me feel! Thanks again!**

**-SS**

(PS**.** I'm already getting questions about this 'date' haha don't anyone worry, it's all part of the plan...)


	5. Chapter 5

**SS- **_Hey guys! Alright sorry about the delay! THANK YOU SO MUCH to everyone who reviewed, you guys honestly make this worth doing. I'm going to be extremely honest here. I was struggling, trying to get into this story but I honestly think this is the best chapter I've ever written. I'm so excited to share it with you and I'm worried all the next chapters are going to pale in comparison! Anyway, please let me know what you think! Happy reading! _

Books were strewn all across the floor, dresser, and bed. Pieces of paper scattered, bookmarks bent in half, and used quills in the trash. Hermione lay on her bed, hair in an unruly mess, eyes tired and hands covered in ink splotches. She had been researching for days on end; Snape had allowed her use of his personal book collection. It was quite extensive, she mused, eyes flickering to the window; the sky was grey outside. She sighed, the beautiful crisp leaves had gone and replacing them on the ground was a light dusting of silver. Frost –and the beginning of winter—had settled in.

Her stomach suddenly lurched, an uneasy feeling settling in her chest. This had been a reoccurring feeling in the last few days, she couldn't quite explain it, but was ashamed at the knowledge that it was most likely her Professor's upcoming _mission_ that had her stomach in knots. She balled her fists and pushed her books away, rubbing her eyes.

Why did he have a date?

Who was it with?

Was she pretty?

Unsettling questions circled in her mind, over and over. She knew it was probably childish but she couldn't help it. She felt tears of frustration begin in the corner of her eyes, but stopped them in their tracks. She would _not_ cry over this. It was silly.

Hermione picked herself off the bed, her stomach rumbling. She made her way down the stairs, her spirits low. Not only did Snape have a date coming up, but Hermione felt no closer to figuring out how to destroy the Horcruxes. She knew no ordinary spells could break them, but the books she had weren't giving her any clues. Ron and Harry had contacted her every day since, assuring that she was indeed alive and well. Every day she had to remind them that, no, she couldn't disclose her location and no she could not simply meet up with them. Hermione told them about the purple mark, conveniently leaving out small details such as Professor Snape. Though they were frustrated, they were none the less happy to have the third member of their team back in communication.

Hermione made herself a quick sandwich and a pot of herbal tea. Sitting down at the table, she traced the lines in the cracked wood, thinking. Perhaps she would pull back out the _Tales of the Beedle and the Bard_. After all, she'd been studying for days straight and could use a book of entertainment rather than information.

Finishing up, she put her plate in the sink, washed it, and began heading up the stairs. The house was once again very quiet, chilling almost without Snape prowling up and down the halls. She even welcomed his fits and tantrums compared to the desolate silence and lack of human contact. Wrapping her arms around herself, she suddenly stopped half way up the stairs and sat down, her elbows on her knees.

She was so lonely, so empty. She thought back to the wedding, Bill and Fleurs wedding, so long ago that seemed now. That was the day Scrimgeour gave them the items Dumbledore had left in his will. Ron's Put-Outer seemed, so far, to be very useful. Her book she had yet to uncover its use, save for the small triangular symbol. She knew it meant something. Harry had gotten the snitch, which he said still wouldn't open, much too all their disappointment. But wasn't there something else?

At that moment the door swung open and Snape came striding in, a thick, woolly, black travelers cloak around his neck. He was carrying a small, beaded bag.

"Oh!" Hermione cried, jumping to her feet. She ran towards him and he handed her the bag without a word.

"Really? You found it?" Her face split into a wide grin as she cradled the small bag to her chest. Once again he chose not to respond and walked past her, sinking into a hard back chair. Hermione, despite herself, couldn't stop smiling. She walked over to him, summoned the pot of tea she had made earlier and poured him a cup.

"Thank you, Professor," she said quietly, noticing how he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"It was nothing, Miss Granger, I enjoy risking my life for glittering women's apparel," he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. Hermione fixed him with a glare but was shocked when she heard a chuckle coming from her bag.

Snape didn't move, he didn't even twitch at the noise.

"Ah," he said, sounding bored, "I nearly forgot."

"Oh my dear boy, I know you would not forget about me," said the voice from her bag. Snape turned to her, a look of pure annoyance on his face, and reached his hand out for the bag. Hermione gave it to him reluctantly and watched as his arm disappeared into it. Seconds later, he pulled his hand out followed by a large portrait of Albus Dumbledore.

"For your company, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said pleasantly, the paint in his eyes twinkling. "Severus felt you could use someone to speak with."

"That's quite enough, Albus," Snape snapped, hanging the painting on the wall. Hermione smiled slightly, having sworn she saw the faintest of pinks appear on his cheeks.

Snape stepped back, next to Hermione and they both stared at Dumbledore's smiling face.

"Thank you, Severus, that was quite an enjoyable journey, nice to stretch my legs," Dumbledore said, smiling. Hermione laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. Snape rolled his eyes and stormed off, muttering to himself.

"My how you've grown, Miss Granger," he said, his eyes warm. Hermione pulled up a chair and sat in front of the painting, her heart delighted.

"Please, Professor, call me Hermione," she smiled, almost laughing; it was a wonderful feeling to be in his presence again.

"As you wish, Hermione. If I were you, I would check your bag once more. I believe Severus has left you one other surprise." Hermione grabbed her bag eagerly, sifting through its many contents. She gasped, her hand clasped around a jewel encrusted handle. With one swift tug, Hermione pulled out the sword of Gryffindor.

"Of course!" She cried, her eyes suddenly wild, excitement flooding through her. "The sword is goblin made; it only takes in that which makes it stronger!" At that moment Snape entered the room once more, clad in his usual black cloak.

"Oh, Professor Snape, it's the sword, the sword will eliminate the Horcruxes!" She almost yelled, her excitement getting the better of her, but something about the way Snape's lip curled popped a hole in her bubble.

"You already know, don't you?" She said disappointedly, still grasping the sword so tightly her knuckles shone white. He nodded curtly and moved the armchair so that it faced the mantelpiece, sinking down gracefully into it.

"But if you already know, why didn't you tell me?" She asked, dejected, sitting down on the edge of the couch.

"Relax, Miss Granger, I only found out a couple days prior to yourself." Truth be told, Snape was mildly impressed with the young Gryffindor, it had taken him much research to figure it out himself. He was sure Albus was aware but it seemed as though the old man wasn't willing to divulge any of his secrets.

"We will have to find a date in which to return it to Potter," Snape said curtly, trying not to think about the encounter. He saw Hermione about to open her mouth and put up a hand to stop her.

"Yes, yes Miss Granger, you may accompany me so long as all goes well tonight," he sighed heavily. He was aching, exhausted. He did not favor an evening away from his fireplace and a good book. His eyes flickered over to her once again and noticed how she regarded her feet quietly, her eyes troubled. He had to admit an ulterior motive to inviting Granger on his so called 'date'. They were going to a popular pub and he hoped Granger would find a suitable, young man to divert her attention away from himself. He was uncomfortable with her pursuit of his affections, it was unnerving to watch a young, beautiful woman with such potential pining after a much older, worn out spy whose time was coming to an end.

Snape repressed a shudder, his eyes locking with Albus'. The older man was watching him curiously, if not a little sadly. He tried not to think of the coming months, in which he knew Voldemort would have no further use for him.

Irritation began to bubble in his chest as it so often did these days. He checked the old clock on the mantel piece and clutched the ends of the chair tightly so that his fingertips dug into the soft, green fabric. He raised himself suddenly, his eyes hard, glittering.

The sudden movement frightened Hermione, whose head snapped up nervously.

"Get ready, Granger. We are leaving in an hour," he snapped at her, his shoulders tight. Hermione stared after his retreating figure apprehensively, what had him in such a foul mood? Shrugging her shoulders, Hermione raised herself from the couch and waved goodbye to her previous Headmaster before traipsing up the stairs. She stared into her Professors room as she reached the top landing and saw him filtering through his closet, looking for something to wear.

With a sudden wave of determination, Hermione locked herself in her room. If he was going to meet another witch and bring her along, than she'd be damned if she didn't give her a run for her money. She found a dress in her closet; it was old and much too big for her. Laying it on her bed, she grasped her wand tightly and began transfiguring it. She tightened the waist, shortened the length and expanded the scoop neck. Perfect.

An hour had passed and soon enough, Professor Snape was knocking on her door impatiently.

"Hold on!" She cried and shuffled around the room, trying to find a spot to slip on her heels. With one quick glance into the mirror, she smiled, and opened the door. They both stared at each, in which there was an awkward pause. Hermione's breath was caught in her throat. Snape stood in front of her, tall and... well, beautiful. It was the only word she had for him. He had taken a pepper up potion and so his skin glowed healthily, the bags under his eyes temporarily vanished. His obsidian eyes sparkled at her like two dark jewels against snow white skin. His coal black hair was pulled into a tight blue bow at the nap of his neck. Hermione's eyes traveled over the length of him, sapphire blue robes covered what she knew to be broad, muscular shoulders. And finally black dragon hide boots completed the outfit.

"Miss Granger," his voice was soft, silky. Her eyes snapped back to his and she felt her lower tummy quiver when she gazed into heated eyes. Snape was regarding her oddly, his eyes were intense, almost melting but his facial features had hardened, his lips pursed. He gestured over to the mirror at the end of the hall and Hermione obliged, she stared at her reflection. She wore a tight fitting, blood red dress. The scoop neck she had modified was now so open it slid over her shoulders. Her golden brown hair was curled, half up in a bun, half flitting in soft spirals around her face. Her eyes shone bright, caramel and intense with black, smoky makeup. Finally, she looked at her lips, the same blood red as her dress.

Snape cleared his throat and her eyes flickered to his reflection, standing so much taller than her. His eyes were still intense. He reached in front of her and placed a dangling topaz amulet around her throat. He tied it gently behind her neck.

He whispered, "Keep this close, Miss Granger. It will cease functioning the moment it leaves your skin." His breath tickled her neck and she fought the urge to shudder. He was so close to her, she could feel his heat on her back, smell his intoxicating cologne. He turned abruptly and marched down the stairs. Hermione followed quietly, her black heels clicking against the tile. Once outside, he extended his arm to her and she took it tightly, feeling a familiar pull through a tube too tight to breathe.

Hermione stumbled upon landing but thanks to her Professor's firm grip she managed to stay on her feet. She shivered lightly in the cold, the wind bitter as it whipped against her face. He reacted by tightening his grip on her arm and she smiled slightly, happy for the warmth of his cloak. They walked inside a shabby looking pub, the lights dim through the snow encrusted windows.

The inside was very different from its sad, broken down exterior. The lights were still dim but a warm atmosphere of intimacy was felt throughout the pub. The music was loud, pumping; she could feel every beat in her chest. There were witches and wizards dancing, drinks in their hands and smiles on their faces. Snape pulled her aside before she could fully enter the room.

"You will sit where I can see you, Miss Granger." Hermione frowned at him.

"With all due respect, Professor, I'm not a child," she snapped, frustrated. It was still odd to her, seeing him so cleaned up. She still had a hard time concentrating whenever she got a whiff of him. His eyes hardened and he grabbed her shoulder in a no nonsense grip.

"If you don't stop arguing, you're going to sit on my lap!" He hissed, then his face suddenly contorted as he realized what he had said. Hermione tried and failed to suppress a giggle, her cheeks reddening. He sighed, rolling his eyes at her. He put his hand on the middle of her back and pushed her forward towards a two seater table with a beautiful, single white rose in the middle. The flower rotated slowly on the spot, petals loosening and falling delicately onto the wood underneath. When the rose had shed all its petals, it would magically restart with all its glorious volume. Hermione sighed heavily and sat down; knowing Snape would be sitting at a different table.

A delicate beat had begun, a witch's voice echoing softly around the room, engulfing her senses. It was a romantic yet depressing tune, a sound that made the heart ache and the mind heavy. Hermione looked around the room and spotted her Professor's uncharacteristic sapphire robes only a few tables down. He bowed low, grabbing a long slender hand in his own, bent down low and kissed it gently. Hermione's stomach flipped. He moved out of the way to sit down and Hermione felt a gnarling, clawing feeling in her stomach.

Jealousy.

The witch was tall and slender, with bright blonde curls and deep, glowing blue eyes. The candlelight at their table seemed to only make her all the more stunning, her porcelain skin alight, and her features angelic. She laughed at something her Professor had said, her full lips parting to show gleaming, perfectly square teeth. Hermione was forcibly reminded of her youth when her own front teeth were rather large. Her eyes slide over to Snape and she watched as his eyes sparkled, dancing in the candlelight. He was smirking at her, his eyebrow raised suggestively.

Hermione squirmed in her seat, feeling sick to her stomach. What she wouldn't give to have Severus Snape look at her that way. Her heart heavy, she watched as he ordered the table a round of drinks. The woman covered her mouth elegantly and giggled in a high pitched, sing song voice. Her eyes suddenly swiveled over to Hermione's.

"That girl is staring at us, Severus." She heard the woman whisper, her hand reaching over gently, brushing his fingertips. Snape turned his head slowly, wisps of his bangs falling into his eyes as he regarded Hermione, who blushed, but refused to look away. Snape shot her an exasperated, warning look and she bristled, pursing her lips in a grimace. What had he expected when he brought her along with him and his _date_?

The song changed, and the tempo sped up. Hermione toyed with the lose pieces of her hair, watching the rose restart its shedding for the fifth time 'round.

"I wonder if she's even supposed to be here unsupervised. That is to say, she looks no older than fourteen!" The woman laughed, her hand had now moved to his lap. She may have been one of the most beautiful women Hermione had ever seen, but in that moment, she was the ugliest. Hermione was about to send a quiet curse over to her table when she was tapped on the shoulder. Glancing upwards, she saw a young man with shaggy brown hair and blue-grey eyes smiling at her.

"Care to dance?" He asked her, his hand outstretched. She bit her lip, glancing back at Snape's table. They were now sitting very close to each other, talking in quiet whispers. Hermione felt her face grow hot, she turned back to the young man, his hand still outstretched and took it. His smile broadened and he pulled her to the dance floor. They twirled and danced, the boy's hands trying to touch places Hermione wasn't comfortable with.

"That's a pretty necklace!" He shouted over the music, pointing to her amulet. "Who gave it to you?" She looked at him right in the eye, he was pretty handsome, and he did smell pretty nice too, but even that couldn't relieve the pain she felt in her heart.

"No one," she said angrily, and they continued dancing. The song was over and they continued to dance to the next few, however, Hermione was starting to lose energy. Every few minutes she would glance over at Snape, watch how he undressed the young blonde with his eyes, his long, slender fingers playing coy with hers. Pretty soon Hermione declined to dance to yet another song and returned to her lonely seat.

Her rose was on its last few petals. Hermione unhooked the amulet from around her neck, fingering it. It was hard not to think of him as she watched the dim light dance off the slick amber surface.

Though she tried hard not to look, she found her eyes sliding over to his table once again, her fists clenched. Empty goblets littered the table; her hand was stroking his inner thigh as he nuzzled her neck. She watched in silent horror as their lips met, brushing gently onto each other. She reached up and grabbed the back of his neck, fingering his soft black hair, pulling him into the kiss. Blondie glanced up briefly and caught Hermione's eye, a smirk playing on her lips, her eyes glittering menacingly as she opened her mouth to him.

Hot tears streamed down Hermione's face, her eyes full of hate as she watched Blondie's tongue slip into his mouth. She couldn't take it anymore, the pain in her chest, the sick in her stomach too much for her to take. She slammed her hands down on the table as she got up, hurrying out the door without a backwards glance, without a thought to the small, glittering amulet left on the table...

Hermione slammed the door shut to the pub, the music now a dull roar in the background. She wrapped her hands around herself tightly, tears still streaming freely down her face. She shivered in the cold, a chilly silence settling down around her. Her chest heaved in heavy gasps as she wept, her mind replaying the way he watched her, the way he held her.

Snow drifted lazily around her, covering her in white dust. She heard a noise, and she turned to see four figures heading towards her in a hurry. Hermione backed away but hit something very hard, immovable behind her. Heart thudding in her chest, she glanced upward, hey eyes wide.

A scream pierced the night, so high and violent that Snape jerked away from the witch entwining herself around him. He leapt to his feet much to her indignation.

"Severus! What are you—?" She complained but Snape's mind was filled with only one person.

Granger.

The bar had gone quiet and another scream filled the strained silence. Snape ran over to her table and picked up the amulet, his hands shaking. Pocketing it, he darted outside to a scene that would forever haunt him.

Hermione was sprawled on the ground, the snow saturated with her blood. Her clothes were half ripped off, her face bleeding. There were four Death Eaters, one on top of her, fighting with her hands so he could rip her dress down further. Snape's wand was out so fast he hadn't remembered reaching for it.

"_Confringo_!" He shouted and the Death Eater went flying off her, landing twenty feet away with a heavy '_thud_'.

"Snape!" snarled Yaxley, one of the other three Death Eaters. "What do you think you're –" he never finished for Snape had sent a curse his way. He blocked it and the other two Death Eaters braced themselves, gripping their wands tightly. Snape kept his wand level as he approached Hermione, bending down, he grabbed her arm, never keeping his eyes off the three men in black. He helped her to her feet, her dress halfway torn, her nose bleeding heavily and her eye slightly swollen.

"Knew you were a cheat!" cried one of the men, "I knew it! You traitor, wait until I tell the Dark Lord!" Before Snape had a chance to reply a jet of yellow light flew out of the air, hitting the man square in the chest. Hermione's heart raced as she raised her wand higher still. Then a series of events happened so quickly she had no time to react. Jets of light flew in every direction, one of them hitting her in the arm. She screamed in pain, clutching her arm, Snape moved in front of her, blocking her from view.

"Hermione?" Screamed a voice that made her heart melt. She looked to her left with bleary eyes, blinking past tears to see a mop of black hair quickly followed by a bobbing mass of red.

"Harry!" She screamed back, her voice cracking. She soon realized her terrible mistake as the Death Eaters suddenly ceased fighting and turned, their eyes wide as they took in Harry and Ron's dishevelled appearances.

"Hermione! Get away from him!" Harry yelled, pointing furiously at Snape. They were still very far away but the Death Eaters wasted no time as they turned their attention to the boys. Snape snarled furiously, his wand up high. Hermione mimicked him, her wand snapping into action. They cried spells at the same time and the last men in black fell, their faces hitting the tufts of snowy grass.

"Idiot child!" Snape hissed venomously eyeing Harry's approaching figure. "Careless, idiotic, dolts!" He ranted as he obliviated the four men quickly. Harry was running full out, his green eyes panicked as they surveyed Snape so close to his best friend.

"_Expelliarmus_!" Harry cried, still several feet away. Snape blocked the spell easily.

"Harry! No, Stop!" Hermione cried at him, more tears falling freely from her now. Snape grabbed Hermione's shoulders roughly, pulling her in front of him, his arm around her possessively. Harry's eyes widened in horror as Hermione reached for him, her eyes frightened, her face bloodied and bruised.

"NO!" Harry screamed in desperation as Snape and Hermione disappeared with a CRACK!

The last thing Hermione remembered was her friend's horror struck face as they landed with a '_thud_' in front of the manor. Snape was quiet, his face livid. Hermione's stomach flipped uncomfortably as he marched her into the house. Her face burnt furiously as he shut the door with a loud SLAM!

He rounded on her, his face pale, eyes furious. He pulled the amulet from his coat pocket and dangled it roughly in front of her.

"What on _earth_ were you thinking?" He hissed at her heatedly, his eyes wild. "What did I tell you? What did I say?" He barked. Hermione was so stunned by his anger she couldn't speak, her eyes were wide, frightened.

"You could have _died_! You foolish, thoughtless girl!" his nostrils flared as he awaited a response. Hermione finally gathered up her courage and stuttered an answer.

"I-I'm s-sorry Professor, I-I just, I-I just..." she couldn't continue, more tears sliding down her face.

"You just _what_?" He seethed; he grabbed her shoulders roughly, pushing her up against the wall. "What, exactly would be a suitable reason for leaving your amulet behind?" Hermione shivered, her eyes wide. It was the first time she had been truly afraid of her Professor.

"I'm sorry!" She cried quietly, her voice high and afraid. "I just- you, and that-that woman, I—" he cut her off but not with words. His lips came crashing down on hers, demanding, rough, it was nothing like the kiss she had seen him share with Blondie. His hands moved to her head, forcing her harder against him. Was this really happening? Her brain was overloaded as she tasted him, his smell, his presence, his lips so tight against her own. She felt heat race down to her tummy. And suddenly he released her, and she was left quivering against the wall. He gave her one more furious glare before storming off, slamming every door in his path.

**THANK YOU! I really hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! PLEASE review, you guys know it makes my day! Its very appreciated!  
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